


The Secrets You Kept

by hideinthecitynight (avoidbrightstreetlights)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Angst, Camping, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Fae & Fairies, High School, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Popular Peter, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, Stilinski Family Feels, Teenager Derek, Teenager Peter, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidbrightstreetlights/pseuds/hideinthecitynight
Summary: Finally, summer. The Sheriff takes a weekend off to spend it with his son, camping. It starts off well enough - John eats a burger, Stiles talks to him about his boyfriend, they find a place for a tent.And then the Sheriff falls into a fae ring and Stiles would be a fool not to follow him - wherever it would take them.





	1. Breakfast Over the Map

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. I started another fic. It was in my drafts for a long time and yesterday inspiration hit and I edited two chapters, wrote one more, plus I have the fourth one written somewhere - which is not a bad start for me.  
> So stick around, I'll post the next one soon, and we'll see Peter in it. Hopefully, you'll like the chapter enough to actually want to stick around.  
> That'sit I guess. Have fun.
> 
> Oh and I don't know what happened to the text, its formation. Can't fix it, its weird.

"No," Stiles says without looking up. 

The Sheriff grumbles, "Stiles." 

"Turn over the page, old man. That section is restricted." 

The sheriff looks from his menu at Stiles' and sees the same page opened before his son.

"A little selfish of you, don't you think?" The older man looks back at his own menu and swallows hungrily.

Today he will not get a 'no' for an answer. Today is the day, he can feel it. 

"No," Stiles says nonchalantly, still not taking the Sheriff seriously. 

"I will ground you for the whole summer if you won't let me have that burger," the Sheriff threatens. 

Stiles snorts, looks at his father and counters with his own threat.

"Then I will be staying at home, looking up healthy recipes all day long and coking you every meal you eat, every day until the school starts again. And somewhere after a week into the summer I will inevitably get bored and then wonderfully creative and cook broccoli in a way you never thought possible." 

The Sheriff pales at that and then frowns, thinking about his possibilities. 

"Stiles," he chooses to plead again, "just one, -just let me order one burger," when his 16-year old son is still looking unconvinced he continues.

"Look, we will be camping this whole weekend and all I will be able to eat is what you cooked for us to take with to the trip," at his son's raised eyebrow he hurries to continue, "not that I don't appreciate your efforts son, I am grateful, I really am, but what I mean is that there is no chance for me to sneak something while we're camping..." 

"As to how it should be," Stiles nods, satisfied with himself. 

"...Which means healthy food, exercise, fresh air, no stress from work - if I eat just one burger I will quickly work and fresh air it out of my system," the Sheriff is gesticulating now and Stiles holds back a laugh. He looks closely at his father and thinks that he actually might have a point.   

"And," the Sheriff raises his finger, "to make this for you easier, I will even promise not to try to eat anything unhealthy, not even try to sniff it for the whole week after." 

His father is still looking at him imploringly when the waitress comes over to take their order. 

"I'll order for the both of us," Stiles chimes and gathers the menus in his hands. The Sheriff looks longingly at the pictures that are taken away from him so swiftly and mercilessly. 

"One burger from the chef, big serving of French fries, extra ketchup and a big colafor me. And for my dad here," Stiles points and the Sheriff swallows nervously, "a breakfast burger, no sauce, small fries and green tea. Thanks." 

Stiles looks at his beaming father who probably mourns the sauce but is still happy about getting a burger anyway. 

"I knew I raised a fair kid," he says. 

Stiles chuckles and pulls out a map.  

"So..." he lays it out on the table, looks it over and purses his lips. 

The Sheriff leans over too.

"So, where are we going? To the Clearwater's pond, right?" 

"I'm... actually not sure, dad." 

The Sheriff raises his eyebrows at that in disbelief.  

“Stiles, I saw you pouring over maps for an entire month and scattering equipment all over the house. You never go anywhere or do anything 'half prepared'. So what is it, son?" 

Stiles flushes in embarrassment. "Well, I just, I, look, I," he stops and takes a breath in, "I guess I changed my mind last minute," he shrugs like 'what can you do?' 

"Okay," the Sheriff nods. "That's fine. Do we need more time to reach there?" 

"Uh, no, not really," Stiles shifts in his seat and then blurts out," You know Derek is really good at all this camping stuff, his family goes out to the forest almost every month. Maybe we should've asked him to come along so that we wouldn't get lost or eat some poison ivy or something." 

The Sheriff snorts and shakes his head in amused disbelief. "Derek?" 

Stiles starts gesturing wildly with his hands. "Yeah, Derek, Derek Hale, my best friend." 

"That same best friend," the Sheriff looks closely at his son, "who was repeatedly accused of and punished for multiple acts of pranking in the whole county?" 

Stiles flushes at that and then quickly amends,"Did I say, Derek? What I meant to say was, Scott, my best buddy Scott, why would I even say Derek," he gives out a nervous laugh and quickly directs his gaze away. 

"The Scott who has asthma so severe that anything in that forest could trigger an attack at any moment? That’s a friend you were so eager to invite along with us?" 

"Or you know," Stiles hides half his face with a hand and peeks from the corner of his eye at his father, "you could ask Peter to come along." 

The silence falls over their table. Stiles sneaks another glance at his dad. "You know...my boyfriend." 

"Ah," the Sheriff finally understands what all this is about and then adds, unimpressed, "Uh-huh." 

In sudden jerky movements and flailing limbs Stiles explodes then. "Oh my God! Come on!" 

With mirth dancing in his eyes, the Sheriff only smiles in amusement. "Stiles," he tries to placate his son with an eye-roll. 

"A-ha!" Stiles exclaims, "I knew you didn't like him!" 

The Sheriff grimaces and tries again, "Stiles." 

"It wouldn't do any harm to get to know him a little closer, dad," Stiles crosses his arms over his chest in the offence.

"Son, listen," the Sheriff starts again only to be interrupted again. 

"Look, dad. He's a good person and a great boyfriend, I don't understand why you don't like him." 

"Son," The Sheriff raises his hand in from of him, "Stop." 

Stiles squints belligerently at his father and nods, allowing him to explain. He is ready to protect his boyfriend at any provocation though. 

"It's not that I don't like him," he starts and Stiles frowns,"and I do know him a little. After all, you did bring him to dinner twice, and I saw him around at the house enough times. I even talked to his sister, Talia, so if you think that I do not know enough," the Sheriff raises his eyebrows meaningly, "believe me, I do." 

Stiles involuntary blushes, not sure what his dad is implying. He is hoping desperately it is nowhere near the images that are appearing in his head right now. 

  

_Stiles leaned over a map and tapped his pencil over it. He narrowed it down to two possible camping locations. Of course, he had a whole month to prepare but he wanted to decide now before he got swarmed into the exhilaration of the exams._

_"The Clearwater pond, that's where you should go," said a voice behind him and then promptly started trailing kissed along his neck._

_Stiles looked at the map, paying it only half his attention. It was one of the two options and, honestly, he was currently not leaning towards it._

_"Why?" he asked and closed his eyes at the particularly delicious tingling sensation._

_"You'll like it there," he was assured._

_"My family goes there often. There are tables and benches to have a proper meal, a safe swing, a clean clearing nearby perfect for a tent and, most importantly, there is a pond there."_

_Stiles hummed and opened his eyes to look at the map again. It did sound nice and tempting, but, "Ring Ridge has a waterfall."_

_Kisses froze on his skin. Stiles half turned his head to look back but stopped at the resumed sucking._

_"It is barely four feet high, nothing to look at," and then Stiles got his skin nipped particularly harshly, "nowhere to swim. Just some pebbles and mud. You'll get bored quickly."_

_Stiles only hummed in contemplation, not really persuaded._

_His chair was suddenly spun around and he came face to face with his annoyed boyfriend._

_"I already decided for you – you go to Clearwater. I, as a highly experienced camper and hiker, recommend it to you so you will listen and go there," Stiles blinked at Peter in amusement and nodded. "Now, will you pay attention to me or should I return to my homework?"_

_Stiles smirked at his high-maintenance boyfriend and put his hands on his waist._

_"I trust you," he said easily and pulled Peter closer, "If you say Clearwater, then sure, let Clearwater it be, I don't care."_

_Peter straightened importantly and smiled smugly as if him being right was the only way the universe worked._

_"Oh, stop it," Stiles rolled his eyes, knowing that bragging about himself could come from Peter at any moment._

_Peter smiled blindingly at him and wiggled his eyebrows, so damn proud of himself._

_"I don't want you smiling either, now stop it."_

_Peter sighed, put-upon, and asked, "Then how do you want my face?"_

_Stiles smirked. Feeling bold, he swiftly took off his shirt, vaguely pointed at the available to sight skin and said innocently, "On me?"_

_Peter made a little 'ah' noise, suddenly understanding as he nodded seriously, very eager to go along the suggestion._

_"You are not very interested in talking today, are you?" his eyes did not move an inch away from the exposed pale skin._

_"Anything for you," he added licking his lips and surged forward as if the most delicious meal on earth was presented right in front of him, ready to be devoured._

Stiles shivers as he pushes away from the memory, trying to not be too obvious about where his mind wandered. He clears his throat and looks intently at the map. 

"Stiles?" his father asks and he jerks at the question. 

"Wh-what? I didn't, I swear," he looks at his father with rounded eyes. 

"What?" the Sheriff asks confusedly. 

"Nothing, nothing," Stiles hurries to answer and change the topic, "So anyway, if you say you know Peter, and that you checked up on him, which, not cool, dad, then I don’t really see why you're not that thrilled about him?" 

"Look, kid, let me be honest here. I think he is a good kid," his dad says and Stiles perks up," but! - but my cop signals are tingling. That boy has secrets and I'm not sure you know them all." 

Stiles frowns at that, not exactly happy with that statement. He really did hope he was imagining That, after all, his internal inherited cop was flagging him as well. 

"Anyway, son. We are doing this as a family, a trip for just the two of us. I know we haven't spent a lot of time together recently and I thought you would be happy to do something as father and son." 

His father looks suddenly so unsure and Stiles feels guilty now.  

"No, dad, you're right. I'm glad we have some bonding time. I see those losers every day anyway, it's good to have a break."  

He smiles reassuringly at his father - he believes in every word he says. It is a relief to have a break from them. Well, maybe not from all of them...but those thoughts he will have to bring up some other time. Now it is breakfast time. Although it is a little early for breakfast, it is still best to energize before the walk. 

The waitress brings their food and they enthusiastically dig in. Stiles looks at the map before him while chewing and after swallowing he announces, "Ring Ridge. We'll go there." 

The Sheriff just nods and continues happily crunching on his limited hot fries.  


	2. What Happened at the Party - Please, it has to stay there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter, why not.

As Stiles and his father are hiking through the forest in silence, Stiles cannot help but be distracted. He wants to talk to his dad about something but feels a bit awkward and has no idea how to start.

He bites his lip at another possible conversation beginner that comes to his head and trips again over his own feet.

"Stiles," his father calls to him.

The teenager twitches and almost actually falls but manages to catch himself at the last moment.

"What's on your mind, son?"

Stiles anxiously tugs at the strip of his backpack and blurts, "Nothing."

He curses himself internally. It was a perfect opportunity to start a conversation with his father and he blew it. Unbelievable.

He hangs his head and almost walks into his dad who looks at him in worry.

"Come on, son. Something is clearly bothering you. You know you can talk to me about anything," the Sheriff looks at him, so desperate to hear his son's problems, to be trusted, to be confided in.

Stiles hesitates and then, unable to stop himself otherwise he will chicken out while thinking about it too long, quickly says, "It's about Peter."

Stiles looks at his dad and sees his dad looking at him with worry.

"You know I'll listen, kid, and help however I can," he reassures.

Stiles bites his lip and sighs, he has to tell someone, he is so confused.

"Okay...okay. Remember, like three days ago I went to this party?"

"You mean your first party ever? Of course, I remember, Stiles, it was only a few days ago. Why? Did something happen?"

He looks worried now.

"Nothing _bad_. I mean, no drinking or anything. Just...I don't know...That's why I wanted to talk about it."

His dad was confused but at least less worried now.

"Let's hear it then," the Sheriff nodded seriously.

Stiles sighed, preparing to tell his story.

"So we came to this party..."

 

_Stiles stood near his car, hand outstretched in silent invitation. A second later Peter's joined his and they started walking towards Lydia's house, which hosted the famous 'The end of the Year' celebration party. It was going to be unforgettable, Stiles thought. Little did he know, that it would be hard to forget for all the different reasons._

_"I've never been invited to one of these before," Stiles said while looking at the house in front of him in awe._

_"That's because you weren't dating a senior," Peter said proudly and puffed his chest a little._

_Stiles rolled his eyes so hard it felt like they would get stuck there and never come back. "You are not even a senior yet, not officially. So save your bragging 'til you actually are one."_

_Peter did not let that little detail deter him from his good mood. "Once the summer is over, I will be a full-fledged senior. Officially. I can't wait." Stiles scoffed loudly. "It has a lot of benefits and I'm going to make sure that I exploit them all."_

_"And those benefits are?" Stiles drawled incredulously. Because surely he was not talking about the cheerleaders, or how he could skip classes with them as a part of the basketball team, or how they would have trips to play against other teams in other towns and stay in hotels with aforementioned cheerleaders, or the benefit of sheer popularity just because he's the oldest in the school._ _He didn't forget to mention the cheerleaders, did he?_

_Oh and did Stiles mention that no one really took him, Stiles, his boyfriend, seriously? Boy, how many times did he hear that come summer or autumn and Peter would drop his dumb pale ass for someone of his level._

_That did wonders for his self-esteem. Those cheerleaders could barely wait 'til Peter's single again. Ugh. That sure did add him courage and security in their relationship._

_Peter flashed him a big oblivious smile. Combined with the thoughts that just streamed in his head, he did not find it playful._

_They were in the hallway already, party going around them in full swing. Stiles was so excited to be there but those thoughts just got stuck in his head and obscured the view of a wonderful not at all humble abode of Martins'._

_Stiles was staring at people before him, feeling a small frown coming over him when Peter pulled him into his arms and took a hold of Stiles' chin with his hand. He gently turned it to his face and lifted just a little bit, so that their eyes would meet._

_"I will gladly share all my benefits with you, otherwise they hold zero value to me. OK?"_

_Stiles smiled a little and gave a small nod. Peter gave Stiles another one of his beautiful smiles and leaned in to kiss him. One chaste peck, then two, and then with Peter's hands all over him, pressing them together, his tongue getting involved accompanied by soft moans - and then it wasn't that chaste anymore._

"Ahem," his father clears his throat loudly and looks at him pointedly.

"Right, details," Stiles mutters with his cheeks burning.

 

_So once they came in, they went looking for their friends and something to drink...'non-alcoholic'. Stiles found Scott with Alison - the couple was giggling and in love, living in their own dimension; then stumbled upon Jackson, who was actually quite civil to him, courtesy of Peter - no one dared to say anything to Stiles while Peter was with him, so he was just basically ignored. And when he felt too tired to keep his eyes from not rolling any longer, he excused himself and went to refresh his 'juice'._

_Just when he was turning the corner Stiles actually stumbled into Heather, consequently spilling her drink over both of their shirts. She wasn't that mad at him, just made a joke about it and dragged him to the bathroom so that he would help her take off the top and put it in the dryer..._

 

"Really, Stiles?" Mirth is dancing all over the Sheriff's face.

"I thought she needed help!" Stiles cries out defensively.

 

_So they went into the bathroom where he unzipped her top and helped her get out of it. And Stiles would be lying if he said that the sight of a bra and a bunch of necklaces on top of it wasn't an alluring sight, but he was not specifically asked to stare and he had no right anyway, so he averted his eyes quickly like a shy virgin...'he was'. Then she offered him her help and before he could say it was fine while opening and closing his mouth inaudibly like a fish, she already splashed her hands with water and started wiping his shirt with her hand._

_Slowly, thoroughly. Pressing in hard._

_"It's not working," she said suddenly, not at all saddened by the fact. "You need to take it off."_

 

Stiles' story is interrupted by an uproarious laughter from the Sheriff. The old man has to stop and lean against the tree so that he doesn't pitch over and fall from the bent over position the laughter forced him in.

Stiles stops and looks at his father, one eyebrow raised. "What?" He spreads his arms in confusion.

The Sheriff takes one look at him and starts laughing again.

Stiles sighs heavily and with a roll of his eyes, light version, continues his story.

 

_Stiles took off his overshirt and then his T-shirt and handed it obediently over to Heather. She washed it and put it in the drier with hers and started a machine. Stiles, out of goodness of his heart, asked, "Are you cold? You can put on my shirt...if you want?"_

_Heather blushed and smiled at him from her lashes. "You're so sweet, Stiles," she said but did not take it. "You're always taking care of me so well."_

 

Stiles' story is once again interrupted by his father, this time with a question, "What did you do for her?"

"I don't know!" Stiles wildly flails his arms. The sheriff looks at him in disbelief. "I just, you know, was friendly with her at school..."

"How friendly?" The Sheriff asks barely restraining himself from laughing. Again.

Stiles huffs in frustration and starts counting his good deeds, "Well, we share history and chemistry, so, you know, I help her out, she helps me out. Ok, maybe I've done a few assignments by myself for the both of us, she did not feel very well, cramps I guess, so I might have bought her chocolates a few times, just the bars, some Reese's cups, ugh, and when I knew she was at school after missing a day, and we had the first lesson together I'd bring her that smoothie she likes, I was in the shop anyway, ughh, ummm, what else, I gave her a ride once so that she could visit her grandmother, it was one town over and her parents couldn't do it, oh god, the cookies her grandma makes, delicious as hell, what else..." Stiles scratches at the top of his head while looking under his feet, trying not to fall while trying to remember other nice things he had done to Heather.

"Wait," the Sheriff, the master of interruptions, interrupts him, "so you were not just a driver but also went to meet her grandmother? And drank a cup of tea?"

His father was obviously teasing but in his defence, all Stiles has to say is, "It was a really good tea, no joke."

"Wow, son," the Sheriff exclaims, snickering, "I really raised you that oblivious. At least in that department. I can't wait to hear how that story with the shirt ended."

Stiles just looks at him sullenly and with a sigh, continues.

 

_"All those little gifts you bought me," she took a step closer to him, one more and they would be standing flush to each other, "even though I never promised anything in return."_

_Stiles gave out a nervous laugh and lifted his hand to scratch his head._

_"That's what friends are for, right?" He answered awkwardly._

_"Right," she echoed flatly but still with a smile on her face. "You know, I thought, maybe," she stopped and took the end of his belt with her fingers, tugging it closer to herself and making Stiles follow, closing the space between them; tugging but not unbuckling. Thank God._

_"Ow," Stiles said in surprise and then quickly said, "Sorry," for bumping into her a little, as if it was his fault for stumbling._

_But Heather paid little attention to his awkwardness and proceeded with her sentence, "Those were the signs, saying that," she hiccuped involuntarily but did not let it deter her from her train of thought, "that you were the right guy for me." She looked up from her lashes and zeroed in on his lips. "And I think, you'd be perfect for me, you know, as a boyfriend."_

_Heather started leaning in and Stiles managed to jerk away at the last minute. Heather let out a disgruntled sound and looked at him questioningly._

_"Heather," Stiles took a step back, but her hands, still holding his buckle, made her follow him and make a step, not that she minded though. "I have a boyfriend. Peter, Peter Hale, remember?"_

_"Yeah, I know," she said dismissively, "but you're not like, serious, right?"_

_"What?" Stiles asked confused and a bit angry. Of course, they were together, and if serious meant exclusive then hell yes they were serious. "Why would you think that?"_

_Stiles took a hold of her hands, efficiently separating them from his garments._

_"Just something that Holly said. And since everyone knows that she's trying to win Peter over, and no one has ever said no to Holly if you know what I mean. So eventually Peter will end up with her, so I thought when you're single..." She trailed off and smiled at him seductively._

_Stiles felt like someone just threw a sledgehammer at his heart. What the fuck did that mean that Holly was trying to get Peter? Why did he not know anything about that?_

_Stiles took a step back, put on his shirt and quickly started buttoning it down._

_"Well, we're still together," Stiles grumbled, clearly upset because it did nothing to reassure his already existing fears about their relationship, only the opposite. "And I don't know who Holly fucks, but it sure as hell is not Peter."_

_Stiles suddenly dropped his hands and hung his head, his mind busy with self-conscious thoughts and heart fraught with doubt._

_"Awww," he heard Heather coo, "don't be upset. I can make it all better if you'll just let me..."_

_She outstretched her hands to take a hold of his belt once again, but Stiles, as if blind to her moved, mumbled, "Excuse me," and left the room._

 

"Wow," the Sheriff says, "you must be really into Peter to reject a girl like that, a girl who obviously wanted to get funky with you."

"Ugh, dad," Stiles whines, colour painting his cheeks, "it's not like that."

"If a girl takes off her shirt and then your shirt, well, kid, she has no intentions of covering herself back or just talking".

"Well, how was I supposed to know! I know nothing about girls! That's why I date guys!"

"Guys?" Sheriff quickly sobers.

Stiles' eyes widen and he hurries to explain, "You know, like generally speaking, like the gender, because I only dated Peter and no one before him. Or while him. All I meant was in general."

"U-huh," the sheriff hummed, not entirely convinced.

"Anyway, about what you said, okay, maybe she was like that, but she was drunk and.. and...I would've never...and I am with Peter anyway."

His father nods, believing him, and Stiles is relieved.

"Okay, so, did you tell him what happened with Heather?"

Stiles looks away and says, "You see, I was going to but..."

 

_Stiles went down to the first floor, looking for Peter and some reassurance. When it came to Peter, he always felt so unsure of himself and their relationship. It was simple: he was not good enough for Peter Hale. He knew that, everyone else knew that. Everyone, it seemed, except for Peter, who, Stiles feared, would actually realize just that and dump him. The news of his classmate going after him really shook him. Why did no one tell him? Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe just an exaggerated gossip mill. After all, at least Derek would've told him if something was going on, right?_

_Stiles stumbled into some couple and tried to see despite the lights blinking aggressively into his eyes. He wandered into the living room but his boyfriend wasn't there. He ran his fingers through his growing mop of hair. He looked down at himself and then realized that he did not finish buttoning his shirt and like third of his chest was still visible. He ducked into a corner and quickly did his buttons. He then ran his fingers nervously through his hair again. Next stop - the kitchen._

_That's when it happened - when he thought he would die from heartbreak, just fucking die._

_He saw Peter, sitting at the bar with someone. He was sitting with Holly, his hands were covering hers on the table._

_The music was pounding, he could barely hear them but their backs were to his front so he made an unwilling step forward, barely breathing. Nothing was happening here, he thought, of course not._

_"...people will see," he heard Peters say as his boyfriend took their hands, - his and Holly's, their hands, together, what the fuck, -  and hid them under the table._

_"...you have to stop it, you can't do it he..." he said, more insistent now, and Stiles thought his heart would beat out of his chest. And then, he said, "Stiles is here," and let go of her hands._

"Wait," the Sheriff interrupts the story. "He actually said that?"

"I know, right?!" Stiles exclaims incredulously.

"But you are still together though," clearly unhappy. "How did that happen?"

Stiles sighs heavily and fondles with straps on his backpack. "Peter is very convincing when he wants to be, I don't know."

A heavy minute of silence is interrupted by Sheriff's curiosity and a drive to continue the investigation before he threatens to pistol whip that Hale boy. "So you heard that and then what?"

 

_The music around him seemed to dull in loudness, he tuned it out, as he did people, and smells, and everything, and everyone. He would faint. No, probably a panic attack. He could feel his heart beating like crazy inside, that was the only sound in his ears. He felt red, burning, so consumed by a fire, he thought he could actually smell his smoking flesh._

_He couldn't break right in the middle of the house. He had to hold it in. He took a step back, then another, and then he was in the corridor, safe from the door to the kitchen. He gave himself another moment - to breath in, hold it, and breath out. All senses rushed back to him at once. He promised the panic, or maybe heart, attack that he would pay attention to it later and let it unravel at full force but not right now. He was at the party, his first party in his entire life and... it did not matter at all._

_Scott. He had to find Scott. He was in the corner with Allison, so happy his heart ached. It was Scott's first party too and he would not ruin it for him._

_Derek. He looked around and saw Derek a few feet away from him, looking at him with worry. Their eyes locked and Stiles' heart constricted. Derek was still Peter's nephew. They lived together. Who would he be loyal to if Stiles told him what he heard? To his family or his best friend. Stiles was afraid to risk it. He was afraid he would lose both Hale family members in one night. He was not ready for that._

_Something must have shown in his eyes for Derek started getting through teenagers to get to him. And Stiles panicked. And grabbed the first red cup he saw and started trying to get away in the opposite direction._

_He drank from the abandoned cup - he really shouldn't have, it was some disgusting unfamiliar 'juice' and it was someones before, ugh, - he drank it to the bottom and swayed into the corner, again, then found his footing and walked on forward. Blessedly, there was a door at the back. His head was pounding already from all that music and all the sweet and exotic 'juice'._

_He stumbled out on the porch and shut the door behind him._

_And of course, of course, there stood Heather, wearing his T'shirt, that, he had to admit, looked good on her, loosely tucked into the high-waisted skirt._

_"Oh, uh, hey, hi," he stumbled over his words._

_She furrowed her brows and turned away._

_Stiles flailed behind her and came closer. "Listen, uh, I'm sorry about later, I was very rude" she turns to look at him with surprise in her eyes. "Look, I'm a bit drunk right now, but could we probably talk about this later? The summer is only starting and I would love to meet up and talk if you want?"_

_He was hesitating, hoping she didn't hate him but she just beamed at him and jumped at him, her hands curling around his neck._

_That's when he heard Derek clearing his throat. Heather jumped away from him, blushed heavily, and quickly darted back to the house. Derek followed her every movement. Then he turned to Stiles and said, "What the hell, dude?"_

_"What?" Stiles asked, feigning ignorance. He hoped Derek was not addressing him running away._

_"Why the hell was she wearing your shirt?" He sounded angry and Stiles calmed down a little. All he had to do was not to think about Peter, just don't think about Peter, he thought, just don't._

_"Oh, uh," he waved his hand ambiguously, "it's nothing, it doesn't matter."_

_"Peter won't like it," Derek said, shifting from foot to foot._

_Anger suddenly flared in Stiles' chest. "Since when do you care about him?" He regretted his outburst the next second when Derek's eyebrows flew up to his very hairline and his friend stared at him, stunned._

_"What_ happen _-"_

_"Nothing," Stiles interrupted immediately. He tried to smile reassuringly at his best friend, feeling guilty for not pouring it on him at once and trusting him with this. "Everything is fine."_

_But Derek did not believe him, that was clear. How could he, Stiles was falling apart inside._

_"Stiles," Derek took a step closer and Stiles turned his head away, barely holding tears._

_Don't think about Peter, not now, please, let's get out first, he kept telling himself._

_And then, of course, because the universe clearly targeted him today, Peter walked out to the porch._

_"Oh, here you are," he said with a smile and then promptly frowned. "What's wrong?" In a flash, he was by Stiles' side and Stiles barely held back a flinch. Oh hell no._

_"Everything's fine," he lied and looked at the identical looks of confusion at Hales' faces, one directed at his face, the other at his shirt. Shit._

_"Did someone hurt you?" Peter flat out growled and Stiles wanted to laugh in his face._

_"Stiles, did - " but Stiles could not let Derek finish, that shit was dangerous._

_"Derek, dude, buddy, my best friend," which from his tone translated in 'shut the fuck up, Derek', "I assure you, everything is fine," and for a good measure, he even rolled his eyes._

_He then looked up at Peter, who was hovering and frowning at him. He really looked at him and saw him - Peter, his Peter, his boyfriend, who he had dated since the New Year, who could take all his senses away with just a kiss, who he had 'not' had sex with, who he confided so much in; Peter his first boyfriend and saw just that with no party to interrupt the warm flow of feelings._

_He smiled gently at him, happiness in his eyes and only then Peter relaxed. He leaned in and drew Stiles in the kiss which he did not hesitate to reciprocate. It was so sweet and gentle it left him aching. He then leaned away and pressed his face in Peter's shoulder._

_"I'm pretty fucking drained, to be honest," he confessed and stepped back. "Sorry."_

_"Nothing to apologise for, darling," was what he heard and smiled. Peter put a hand around his shoulders possessively and started stirring them around the house. "Let's take you home."_

_Stiles stumbled, fucking nerves._

_"You sure? If you want to stay I can drive myself back," Stiles offered. Peter just waived it away._

_"It is my pleasure," he kissed his temple, like a sweet, fucking boyfriend he so often was when there were just the two of them that his heart ached, just fucking ached. "Don't forget about the curfew, Derek."_

_Stiles turned to steal a look at his best friend and saw that he was looking right back, his face worried. Stiles turned away, still unsure. For fuck's sake._

_They drove in silence. Stiles was leaning against the window of his own jeep while Peter was driving. He frowned when they arrived at his house and then he remembered that that was actually their plan - like, before, - to come back, talk about the party, kiss some more, - in case they left the party early._

_And this was not what he needed right now. Just - no._

_"Dad texted me," he says immediately. "He'll be like, in ten minutes," and before Peter could say anything, he took his hand in his and looked him in the eyes, "raincheck?"_

_Peter then started the car again and drove it to his house.  He knew Stiles would protest if he drove the car to Stiles' and then left to get to his house on foot._

_They drove in silence. When they reached the house that sat deep in the woods, Peter just sat there, not making a move to get out._

_Stiles looked at him and thought how handsome he is. He hoped he was wrong about what he heard. But the seed of doubt had already buried deep into his heart._

_"Is everything alright?" Peter asked abruptly and turned to him his body and his piercing eyes._

_"Yeah", Stiles answered feebly and leaned in for a kiss but Peter moved away._

_"Why are you lying to me?" he asked, deeply troubled and Stiles' heart jumped to his throat._

_"I'm just really tired," was all he could come up. And then he oh so unsuspiciously got out of the car. As he rounded it he met Peter halfway. They stood in front of each other and he smiled at Peter. If he could only forget, if it just didn't happen...He wanted to return to those perfect moments. All was left were suspicions and doubt. And hurt, so fucking much of it._

_But he smiled and looped his arms around the senior's waist. He raised a little on his tiptoes and kissed Peter gently. He was immediately enveloped in the warm arms. It felt so safe, so nice. But just for a moment._

_He ended the kiss and nuzzled Peter's cheek. He then stepped back, Peter's hands still chasing after him, smiled at him and said,"I'll text you." And then he got into his car and started backing out of the drive while Peter was still standing there, staring at him._

_He didn't text him. He didn't reply either._

 

"So wait. You were telling me just this morning, mere hours ago how nice it would be if we took Peter with us. And now I hear about all these problems you have, how mistrustful you are and that you haven't talked for two days now."

"Ugh," Stiles sighs heavily. "I just...I don't know. I didn't want it to be real. I was avoiding it all, I guess. Pretending it was...good. Although it is just..." He trails off again.

"Something is fishy." His father states with all seriousness of a cop contemplating a new case.

"I am oblivious, aren't I," he stated miserably. "I should've known."

The sheriff huffs out a laugh. " Stiles, before you could even talk you noticed every little thing and pointed it out as if it was your duty to do so. You are not oblivious." He is quiet for a second and then adds. "Not naturally. But purposefully, willingly, yes. You just did not want to acknowledge it. Some things, you, somewhere deep inside, thought were better be left untouched, at least for now."

Stiles' shoulders slump. "Yeah, maybe," he agrees unhappily.

"The question is 'why?' Why were you for the first time in your life willing to overlook something that was out of place? And not just with Heather, that is understandable, you had a boyfriend and you did not need anyone else, so you were blind to everyone else. I am talking about Peter. Why him?" Stiles' face assumes an unhappy frown. He is silent otherwise.

"Stiles, come on. It's just you and me here. Talk to me, kid."

His father sounds so sincere. He fiddles with the straps of his backpack, unable to stop.

"I," he stutters, "well, I..." he sighs and starts again. "No one's ever paid that kind of attention to me before. He is...he's my first boyfriend. And I...I might be...in love with him.A little." He finally trails off in a whisper.

Silence rests upon the forest once again. Stiles stopped somewhere in the middle of his confession and the Sheriff did too. He looks over at his son, unsure of himself and somewhat lost, and then sighs heavily. "Oh hell, kid."

Stiles just nods silently, over and over again, like a broken toy. He might as well be because even after he has acknowledged his fears, they try to hide back in his head and insist that everything is fine and he can be happy high schooler with a boyfriend.

Unfortunately, the cat is out of the bag, the truth hangs in the air like soap bubbles that will not go away until they annoy you to death. He has to acknowledge what is happening.

"Shit," Stiles murmurs into his father's chest that suddenly is right there for support. A familiar arm envelops him into a strong fatherly hug that the senior Stilinski is so known for.

"Hales huh," his father says, providing no help.

Stiles huffs a laugh. "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just leave me a comment, dude


	3. Revelations

“How about this spot?” asks the Sheriff, pointing at the grass between two trees.

Stiles looks at the map again and shakes his head. “No, we need to go a little bit further. I want to find that waterfall before we settle.”

And so they go further. 

It’s already midday and they both are tired. But Stiles has been promised a waterfall, even if only to find, according to Peter, mud and pebbles.

And so they walk a half-hour more. They are at the edge of the small clean green clearing, very tempted to just stop and place a tent here when they distinctly hear the sound of rushing water.

They perk up and quicken their pace. What they find is a very nice alcove, probably with a small cave under the edge from which the water falls into a small pond.

The waterfall is not four feet high. Oh no. It is much more better. It’s twice Stiles’ height so it’s high enough to jump off of it. The water is clear as glass and the pond looks pretty deep.

Overall, it’s pretty damn awesome.

They laugh with exhaustion, they cheer in exhilaration and go back but not far away, just to the edge of the clearing to set up the camp.

They place their things, quickly change and race to the water. Stiles catapults right off the edge at the top but his father is more temperate and slowly wades into the water from the grassy shore. They swim, they splash, they dunk each other underwater. The Sheriff ever raises him above his shoulders and throws and Stiles shrieks in delight. He sputters when he resurfaces, lungs full of water but it’s all fun.

They lose their last strength in the water and yet somehow recharge. It’s getting dark in the woods, and so do Stiles’ lips from the cold. They walk back then, to change clothes and unpack a bit.

They exchange amused glances and decide to look for wood for the fire before it gets too dark first and only then place the tent.

They walk across the clearing, to the right from the path to the waterfall when Stiles sees it – a perfect ring of green mushrooms. His father, none the wiser, starts walking right to it when Stiles quickly grabs him by the arm and halts him.

“What is it? Did you hear something?” asks the Sheriff while looking around, already in the Sheriff mode. His hand reflexively goes to where his gun usually is but not today for he is on the vacation.

“You almost stepped into the fairy ring, dad. Watch where you’re going.” Stiles berates him and steers him away.

The Sheriff follows with, “A what now?”

“A fairy ring or a witches ring. In German folklore, they are believed to mark the site of witches’ dancing. They are also believed to be cursed so that nothing grows inside. And so will be the ones entering. Cursed, dad. Could lose an eye,” Stiles implores seriously to his dad.

“Really?” his dad question with good humour.

“One does not just step into the fairy ring, dad,” Stiles repeats and then he steers his father even further away.

“It is also believed that they were formed as the result of fairies dancing. If a human crosses the ring they may invite them to join and then you will only stop when you’re dead,” Stiles continues just to drive the point home. “Or of course, there  _could_ be a fairy village right under it and we wouldn’t want to tamper it or invade it by accident.”

“I will not even ask how you know this,” his dad says, picking dry branches from the ground. “Do you really believe it?”

It’s a superstition. It’s a tale. Does he believe it? It doesn’t really matter. “Better safe than sorry.”

They continue collecting branches until they have enough and they head back. The Sheriff almost enters the ring on the way back but Stiles jerks him away right in time.

Stiles almost starts a forest fire despite having read many tips on the internet on how to build a fire so after that the Sheriff is in charge of it. Stiles unpacks food and they ravenously dig in. 

It’s already dark when they try to put up a tent. They cannot find how to strap it down. Then Stiles gets lost somewhere in and under it. His dad digs him up and they start again. The tent crumbles to the ground. They try again and again and with such minimum light from the lanterns they barely see what’s going on. After their third attempt, they give up, tired and too sated after the additional serving of food Stiles packed. So they spread out the sleeping bags and sleep under the stars.

Stiles dreams of Peter swimming with him in the pond until it changes and he sees Holly climbing all over Peter right there in the water. Something tugs at Stiles’ leg and he starts drowning, helpless, while Peter’s attention is focused elsewhere.

Stiles comes to it gradually, sun shining into his eyes. He presses his palms into his lids, wishing for the image to vanish from his head. He yawns and stretches and looks to where his dad is sleeping only to find his sleeping bag empty.

He frowns and sits up, looking around. He tries to focus and listen. That’s when he hears shuffling across the clearing, his father yawning and stumbling, coming back.

Stiles sighs in relief. He feels the urge to raise his hand and wave so he does just that. His father smiles at him and copies his motion.

What happens next makes Stiles’ heart leap to his throat.

His father stumbles, again, but this time he falls, falls right to the ground. Stiles is immediately on his feet to see better what happened.  His father is sprawled across the ground, half his body positioned right in the fairy circle.

Stiles holds his breath and starts walking towards him and calls out, “You okay, dad?”

It’s just a superstition, Stiles says to himself, nothing could possibly happen.

The Sheriff grunts and then yelps – and then, right before his eyes, he falls down, and down and then he is nowhere to be seen, only a huge black hole in his place.

Stiles breaks into the run. He doesn’t even think about it. 

The hole starts narrowing. His father fell through and it’s narrowing as if closing in, and Stiles doesn’t even think about it, he jumps head first right into it, just dives like a pro and makes it in just before it closes.

For the second time this day, Stiles wakes up only to stare right up at his father’s face, who hovers over him, worried and a tiny bit scared.

“Stiles,” he shakes him. When he sees him blinking up at him, he sighs in relief, “Oh thank god, son, are you all right?”

Stiles sits up to look at his father – who does not even have a scratch on him, - and then himself, only to forget all about it when he sees where he is.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes bulging.

The sky is blood red. It is velvet red, with dark pink streaks in it, and it sparkles closer to the horizon, which, by the way, holds the most beautiful emerald castle. It is tangled completely in greens he cannot identify which look sharp and clinging. Their texture resembles precious stones as well. It is enormous in size, tower upon tower, with an entrance that is in a shape of a giant triangle.

It’s breathtaking, Stiles has never seen anything like it.

The ground under his feet is entirely bright yellow and he is afraid he will somehow dirty it.

He looks with big, round, yet somehow excited eyes at his dad and breathes, “Where are we?”

The Sheriff pulls Stiles to his feet and looks him over again.

“How did you get here? Did the hole open under you too?” 

“Not exactly,” Stiles cringes. “I, uh, actually jumped right after you.”

As expected, the sheriff is surprised at first, and then extremely displeased, if not angry. “Why? Why did you do that? You couldn’t have known where it led or if we would be able to get out!”

He’s worried, he’s scared. Stiles can see that and understand. After all, that is what drove him here as well.

They both flinch at the sudden boom of a tiny triangle which is held by a figure that appeared so suddenly before them.

“Welcome, human guardian of Beacon Hills John Stilinski and Spark Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” says, what probably is a male, with pomp and then bows shallowly.

Stiles and the Sheriff exchange bewildered glances and automatically bow back, not willing to even question how someone in a  _fairy_ realm knows their names.

“Her Majesty is expecting you,” he says and immediately turns away, walking towards the castle.

Stiles mouths the words at his dad who only shrugs. After a second of silent debate, they unanimously make the decision of following, not taking a chance of making the queen angry, whoever that is.

“Have you seen him?” Stiles hisses lowly, unable to help himself. “Oh my god, dad, that is not human. And I was only telling you stories, tales. There was a possibility of curse or bad luck, but an actual fairy village?” his voice raises by the end and he grips his dad’s hand tighter. “We are most probably in the entirely different realm, oh my god, magic exists, and so do fairies, oh my god, it’s a crisis, I’m having a crisis and it’s even worse than the gay one last year, oh my god.”

The Sheriff squeezes his arm in silent support but keeps silent for the both of them.

Everything around is so strange that Stiles’ brain barely keeps up with what is going around him. He tries to look around more but his brain is too and so stunned from everything that it just declines to parse any information his sensors receive.

And then they see her. Tall, regal, and too gorgeous to exist in any universe. She is so pale her skin is almost translucent. Her eyes glow natural green that matches the manor behind her.

Stiles immediately straightens in her presence.

“What an exquisite surprise to see you here!” Her voice is carried through the distance and captures everyone's attention in any vicinity, close or far. “Talia has not forewarned me of your visitation.”

“We apologise for such an inconvenience,” the Sheriff suddenly finds his voice and shallowly bows. The Queen looks pleased until,

“Talia?” blurts Stiles’ insolent mouth.

But the Queen only giggles, her cheeks sparkling with gentle silver.

“Alpha Talia Hale, guardian of Beacon Hills and the leader of the Hale pack.”

“What,” Stiles says, his inner Derek awakening and taking all inflexions away.

“Dare I ask, a pack of…what exactly?” His father, bless his polite yet curious soul, asks.

The Queen giggles again and Stiles despite himself finds it enthralling.

“Of werewolves, of course. Your boy is positively and thoroughly marked by those ‘wolves, of course, you know all about it.”

Stiles’ jaw hangs open unattractively and stays that way.

_Werewolves_ , his mind confirms the seconds ago pronounced words.  _Werewolves_ , for Christ sakes. Fairies and now  _werewolve_ _s_ and wait did she just say, Talia Hale? As in, Peter’s sister and Derek’s mother?

For one dumb second Stiles wanted to think if they know what their mother is and then it comes to him that they are all probably werewolves themselves, Peter, and Derek, hell even Cora and he was the only dumbass not to know.

His best friend, werewolf, and he did not even know.

His boyfriend, also a werewolf, and he did not have a single clue.

Talia Hale, who invited him a dozen of times over and with whom he had dinner at the Hale house just as many times, is a werewolf, and Stiles has never even suspected.

And she said he was marked by them? What?

Stiles freezes, the air in his lungs too, but not his heart. Oh no his heart is being active for his whole system and willing to jump out of his chest, run away, and just crumble in on itself.

“Breathe, Stiles,” he hears from the right and he is steered inside.

He finds his breath and follows his father’s lead who probably has already solved some formalities and took care of being invited in.

Stiles walks in and he does not care how spacious, or sparkly, or gorgeous is inside, or how many fairy folk is there, or how it’s such a perfect opportunity to  _learn_ , or about any other things.

The closest people to him turned out to be werewolves,  _werewolves for Christ sake,_ who apparently have been here before and never told him about anything about any of it.

Stiles will have a word with them when he comes back but as of now…

"Please, share our food, join the feast,” the Queen tinkles melodically.

His father is about to dive in, lured in by the delicious smell of food and enthralling music. But Stiles grabs his hand purely by instinct, halting him in his proceedings, "Wait," he says and frowns.

There was something there, his mind supplies, finally willing to work again. They are in the fairy land, there was something he read once, something official that must be done.

"I read something about..." he trails off and shakes his head.

His father looks at him incredulously, "You read something about fairy...uh..court?"

"I have ADHD, dad, I binge Wikipedia quite a lot, - of course, I read something," he loses himself to the thoughts and when he finally remembers mere seconds later, he thinks he ought to hit himself in the head.

"Of course!" He exclaims and looks right at the amused Queen. "Your Majesty, we ask you to grant us safe passage, safe conduct..." he trails, unsure of himself.

The great hall fills with her bell-like laughter. "What a smart spark," she says. "I shall forgive you this time. But only once." She looks at him meaningfully and Stiles nods. "For you are guests in my home nothing shall endanger your life. You are  safe to feast alongside us." Stiles feels the urge to bow so he does, a little. She just laughs at him, pleased and leads the way.

Stiles sighs in relief and looks at his father, who, even though is not aware of the dangers that could have awaited them, instinctively sighs in relief too, partially trusting the word of the Queen.  But only partially, for, after all, they are in a strange place and he has to be on guard.

Stiles tugs him after himself and they quickly take empty places beside the Queen. They both look in wonder at the feast before them and Stiles sighs - there goes the diet. But he would not be himself if he at least didn't say, "Watch it, old man," so he does just that. The Sheriff smirks at him and Stiles knows it fell on death ears. 

He is loading his plate with various shiny fruit - at least he thinks it is fruit - while something else is bothering him. He turns to the Queen and finds her watching him with mirth.

"May I ask you a question, your Majesty?" His mama did teach him some manners after all.

"Of course, young spark. What a little delight you are," and her laugh reverberates across the great hall. Either she is high, or just in a good mood - it was a perfect time to ask questions.

"You keep calling me a 'spark'. What exactly does it mean?"

He could feel his father shift, clearly intending to keep an ear out to this conversation.

"You don't even know," she laughs again, "how precious."

Stiles does not get offended. This woman has to be a few hundred years old - if not older. If she finds him amusing, - fine, it does not hurt him a bit.  As long as she keeps talking.

"A spark, little one, is that thing you keep inside of you. You nurture it, you take care of it, you develop it, you grow with it. And then you make all your wishes come true."

Stiles almost has a mini cardiac arrest when he thinks that something is actually  _inside_  of him, like some worm or a disease. But the wishes part...

"What exactly are you saying?" his dad asks, Sheriff mode.

The Queen laughs again and Stiles is actually used to it now.

"You are the protector, you are the hope, you are the beacon. You are a well of infinite pure belief. You are your own limit. You are the fearless one." She looks at him with that meaningful stare as if reaching right into his soul. "Nothing is impossible for you."

Breath hitches in his chest and he looks at his hands. He flexes them nervously and then looks back at the Queen, "Are you saying that I'm-" he hesitates and then in disbelieving awe continues, "magic?"

She laughs again, with that fragile booming sound but he can only hear an incredulous stutter of his father.

"Every bone in your body is thick with power," she looks him over. "I would love for you to stay in my court. You will have so many things here."

He is magic, that's all that is going through his mind. He has magic and he is so full of it that apparently, he is the magic itself. He is valuable, he realises. And he was just offered a place in the court just because of it. He could not use it, he never even knew about it before this moment, the rational mind cannot still even believe it is true. And still, he is valuable even without it all, the skills or experience. Just because he is him. And the potential he has.

"I am afraid I must decline your offer. I have just begun my...human life?"

The Queen is still in good graces even though he declines her and he reaches to squeeze his father's hand, who does the same. They will not be separated.

Stiles does not push his luck so he eats and drinks and hums along to the music that he doesn't know. He relaxes and so does his father. He cannot feel time, if it's been minutes or days. They are asked to dance and they cannot find it in them to refuse. 

Stiles finally comes to it when they are at the table again, his father blearily blinking at the table. They are tired and full, and they want to stay so much.

But Stiles does not know how long have they been here for or when he will be able to resist the temptations again. So he automatically tugs at his father's sleeve and stands up.

"We thank you for your hospitality, your Majesty, but I am afraid we must leave now."

The Queen does not laugh and Stiles feels like he has to stay to please her. And while the temptation is great and he can feel his father starting to budge, his resolve is strong. 

The Queen smiles at him at least, "I expect you to come back. To visit of course, or more if you wish."

Stiles feels his waist bend in a bow.

"Would you send us back?"

The main entrance to the palace has disappeared long ago and Stiles is not very eager to show how desperate he is for them to reappear.

He hears the Queen laugh one last time as she says, "You are the Spark. All you have to do is to wish for it."

He nods, taking her word for, bids her goodbye, takes his father's hand into a death grip, closes his eyes and wishes so hard he thinks he'll use it all up.

He finds himself in the clearing they camped in, clutching at his dad’s hand still.

They’re back. He can’t believe it, they’re back, he did it.

His wonder is cut short when he sees not only Talia Hale just a few steps before him but Derek and Peter as well.

He inhales sharply as they both immediately rush at him. Stiles raises his palms to halt them. They stop immediately.

He forgets all about the parents and focuses solely on Derek’s guilty face.

“Is it true then?” He asks although he knows that of course, of course, it’s true and he confirms it to himself aloud, incredulous, round two. “Of course, it’s true. You’re a werewolf!”

He raises his hands as if in the grand reveal.

“Yeah,” Derek confirms sullenly and casts his eyes down. “I understand if you don’t want to be friends any-”

But Stiles will have none of this bullshit and immediately demands, “Show me,” instead.

And Derek promptly wolfs out.

And Stiles stares. And stares. And stares, seeing his friend in a new light.Eyes widened, mouth open; he barely breathes and then…he starts hysterically laughing.

“Your eyebrows, dude!” He exclaims. “Where the fuck did they go?” He shakes his head, not taking eyes off of his friend in front of him. “How am I supposed to keep up with your mood swings if there are no eyebrows to guide me?”

And then as abruptly, Derek changes back.

Stiles still stares at him. Then he abruptly exhales and bends to find support on his knees with his hands.

“I’m so tired you wouldn’t believe,” he looks up and sees Derek shifting on his spot, hesitant yet yearning. “Oh my  _god_ , dude, come give me a hug before I keel over.”

Immediately, Derek flies into him and clings as if he hasn’t seen him in years.

In his periphery, Stiles sees Peter shifting from leg to leg, but he decides not to pay him any attention. For now.

“Dude, I was in the fairy realm!” Stiles exclaims into Derek’s shoulder.

Derek shifts back to look at him and whines miserably. “I know, I’m so sorry you had to find out like this. I have no idea how you even  _got_  there but mom felt the shift of someone going  _through_  in this area and we knew you had plans camping so we ran here as fast as we could.”

Stiles rises his eyebrows at that – at Derek’s sudden rambling and that they apparently  _ran_ here.

“How long were we-“

“16 hours!” Derek immediately answers.

Stiles just stares. “No wonder I’m about to fall over. I think I was dancing most of it,” he frowns at the thought, “but I don’t think I remember even half of it.”

Derek promptly hugs him again and Stiles immediately relaxes. “Yeah, it can get crazy there.”

When they finally part, Stiles looks at Derek sternly. “You’re a werewolf, dude.” And Derek holds his breath. “I want to hear  _aaall_ about it, you hear me? No more secrets, Hale.”

Derek sighs in relief and nods shyly. “I really wanted to tell you but…yeah, no more secrets.”

Stiles smiles at him, so glad he has his best friend. He looks at his dad, who is packing and leisurely chatting with Talia Hale and then at Peter, who stares right back.

“I uh, guess I’ll leave you to it,” Derek says and looks between the couple. He then shuffles away, leaving them two staring at each other.

Peter smiles at him as if nothing happened, and starts, a happy smile on his face, “Stiles-“

But Stiles cuts him right off. “No.”

He looks at him sternly and he knows, knows it in his heart that there  _absolutely not_ will be any kind of happy reunion like with Derek.

Peter suddenly slumps and looks at him pleadingly. “Stiles, please,” he implores. “You have to understand-”

But Stiles just shakes his head and takes a step back.

He could deny and say that he doesn’t know why he did not even consider to hold a grudge at Derek or refuse to speak to him like he does so with Peter now. He could lie and say that it’s different, that Derek is his best friend with whom he shares every darkest secret and Peter is his boyfriend with whom he hangs out daily and has sex. He could lie and say that because they were intimate it makes a difference.

It doesn’t, not really. 

Yeah, he’s upset they didn’t tell him but he understands. He understands that they are part of the supernatural world – god, that’s weird, - and they cannot just tell anyone (even though Stiles is not  _just_  anyone). The point is, he understands the secrecy.

He doesn’t rush into Peter’s arms not because of that although it would be nice to have Peter make up for that.

No. It is because Stiles finally faces the problem, he acknowledges that seed, that rotting root of doubt, that suspicion that’s been nagging at him for four days straight. He gives in and tears the mask of obliviousness.

Peter is most probably cheating on him and he will not tolerate that. But he doesn’t want to deal with it either, not right now, not after hours of dancing in the fairy realm after a supernatural world reveal.

Peter takes a step to him, looking miserable and desperate. “Stiles, please can I just-”

Stiles takes a step back, his eyes suspicious and unforgiving.

This Peter, the one in front of him – he doesn’t even  _recognise_  him.

The Peter he knows does not  _beg_ , does not plead. It ’s painful to look at. If he apologises Stiles will doubt if he came back to Beacon Hills at all. So he cuts this all short and says, “I don’t want to talk to you, Peter.”

Peter emits a high distressed whine but stops himself quickly.

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest because his heart aches. It’s been four days since he saw him, and just as long since he kissed him, hell, just touched him, and he  _aches_.

He aches because he loves. God _damit_.

And Peter looks so  _good_. It doesn’t look like he’s been running hours and miles to get here. He looks fresh like he just stepped out of the shower. He looks handsome, so handsome Stiles feels the need to just forgive him so that he could climb him like he so desperately wants to…

He closes his eyes and sighs heavily.

His mind is in disarray. Thoughts are crushing into each other, clashing in the attempts to assemble. They fail, and they try again only to fail once more. And Stiles is just so  _fucking_  tired and overwhelmed. Because, just. Magic exists. Hales are werewolves. And he apparently can wish for shit and it will come true. Or something.

He’ll have to research that last part extra thoroughly.

But right now, this with Peter…

 He can’t do this. He  _cannot_  deal with it.

So he turns on his heels sharply and heads straight to his dad who is accompanied by the Hales. He picks up his bag.

“We’re going home, right?” He asks his dad who looks ready to go so just nods. “Good, cause I’m wiped and I need to crash, and just…I don’t even know, seriously.”

His dad squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I know. We’re going home, kid.”

“I’ll text you later, k?” He looks at Derek who nods. “And then you’ll come over and tell me aaaall about it. But probably not today. All the dancing wiped my brain, I cannot function properly.”

“I’ll be in touch, Sheriff,” says Talia Hale politely and his dad just nods, probably even more tired than he is. 

Stiles does not feel like being polite, his quota has been filled for today.  He does not say a word to her although he might have nodded in her vicinity at some point.

And so they start walking the long walk towards the car to finally go home.

Stiles does not look back to see Peter.

Although he wants to real bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment. Seriously, it's a new work, I have to know what you think.  
> Kudos are nice too.
> 
> If you want, you can find me here  
> wouldyoureallyknow.tumblr.com


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